“He thought you were completely in his power, but rascals sometimes do get mistaken, thank the Lord!”
“Then you bought a horse?”
“Yes, I found that was the only way I could overtake you. I followed the stage, a good way behind, but it wasn’t long before I began to gain upon it. I didn’t expect you would get out of the stage, and when I saw you and Dobson alone in this wood, I was surprised.”
“Mr. Burnett”—this name came more natural to Tom—“complained that his limbs ached from riding, and he asked me to get out and walk with him. I suspected nothing. I thought him a rich man, and didn’t think he’d try to rob me of the little money I had with me.”
“Of course you didn’t. Has he paid you any wages?”
“No; the week wasn’t up. He offered to pay me a week in advance.”
“So he might, as he meant to take it from you again.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Tom, laughing.
“It didn’t take me more’n fifteen minutes to find a horse and buy it,” said Mr. Brush, proceeding with his story. “I didn’t have time to examine it, and find whether it was sound, but I guess I got a good bargain. Anyhow it’s worth sixty dollars, and that’s what I paid for it. And now, Tom, that I’ve told my story, what do you say to hitchin’ horses?”
“I haven’t any horse to hitch, Mr. Brush.”